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The city 's taken-only part by part-

And death is drunk with gore: there's not a street Where fights not to the last some desperate heart

For those for whom it soon shall cease to beat.
Here War forgot his own destructive art

In more destroying nature; and the heat
Of caruage, like the Nile's sun-sodden slime,
Engenderd monstrous shapes of every crime.

A Russian officer, in martial tread

Over a heap of bodies, felt his heel
Seized fast, as if 't were by the Serpent's head,

Whose fangs Eve taught her human seed to feel. Ja vain he kick'd, and swore, and writhed, and bled,

And howld for help as wolves do for a meal-
The teeth still kept their gratifying hold,
As do the subtle snakes described of old.

A dying Moslem, who had felt the foot

Of a foe o'er him, spatchd at it, and bil
The very tendon which is most acute-

(That which some ancient muse or modern wit Named after thee, Achilles) and quite through 't

He made the teeth meet; nor relinquishi'd it Even with his life-for (but they lie) 't is said To the live leg still clung the sever'd head.

However this may be, 't is pretty sure

The Russian officer for life was lamed,
For the Turk's teeth stuck faster than a skewer,

And left him 'midst the invalid and maim'd:
The regimental surgeon could not cure

His patient, and perhaps was to be blamed
More than the head of the inveterate foe,
Which was cut off, and scarce even then let go.

But then the fact's a fact-and 'c is the part

Of a true poet to escape from fiction
Whene'er he can; for there is little art

In leaving verse more free from the restriction
Of truth than prose, unless to suit the mart

For what is sometimes callid poetic diction,
And that outrageous appetite for lies
Which Satan angles with for souls like flies.

The city's taken, but not renderd! – No!

There's not a Moslem that hath yielded sword:
The blood may gush out, as the Danube's tlow

Rolls by the city wall; but deed nor word
Acknowledge aught of dread of death or foe:

In vain the yell of victory is roar'd
By the advancing Muscovite--the groan
Of the last foe is echoed by his own.

The bayonet pierces and the sabre cleaves,

And human lives are lavish'd every where,
As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves

When the stripp'd forest bows to the bleak air, And groans; and thus the peopled city grieves,

Shorn of its best and loveliest, and left bare; But still it falls with vast and awful splinters, As oaks blown down with all their Ulousand winters.

LXXXIX. It is an awful topic-but 't is not

My cue for any time to be terrific: For chequer'd as is seen our human lot

With good, and bad, and worse, alike prolific
Of melancholy merriment, to quote

Too much of one sort would be soporific;-
Without, or with, offence to friends or foes,
I sketch your world exactly as it goes.

And one good action in the midst of crimes

Is « quite refreshing »-in the affected phrase
Of these ambrosial, Pharisaic times,

With all their pretty milk-and-water ways,And may serve therefore to bedew these rlıymes,

A little scorchd at present with the blaze
Of conquest and its consequences, which
Make epic poesy so rare and rich.

Upon a taken bastion, where there lay

Thousands of slaughter'd men, a yet warm group
Of murder'd women, who had found their way

To this vain refuge, made the good heart droop
And shudder;—while, as beautiful as May,

A female child of ten years tried to stoop
And hide her little palpitating breast
Amidst the bodies lull'd in bloody rest.

Two villanous Cossacks pursued the child

With tashing eyes and weapons: match'd with them, The rudest brute that roams Siberia's wild

Has feelings pure and polish'd as a gem,The bear is civilized, the wolf is mild ;

And whom for this at last must we condemn?
Their natures, or their sovereigns, who employ
All arts to teach their subjects to destroy?

Their sabres Glitter'd o'er her little head,

Whence her fair hair rose twining with affright,
Her hidden face was plunged amidst the dead :

When Juan caught a glimpse of this sad sight, I shall not exactly say what he said,

Because it might not solace « ears polite;»
! ut what he did, was to lay on their backs,-
The readiest way of reasoning with Cossacks.

One's hip he slash'd, and split the other's shoulder,

And drove them with their brutal yells to seek
If there might be chirurgeons who could solder

The wounds they richly merited, and shriek
Their baftled rage and pain; while waxing colder

As he turn d o'er each pale and gory cheek,
Don Juan raised his little captive from
The beap a moment more had made her tomb.

ХСУ. .
And she was chill as they, aud on her face

A slender streak of blood announced how near ller fate had been to that of all her race;

For the same blow which laid her mother here Hlad scarrd her brow, and left its crimson trace

As the last link with all she had held dear; But else unlıurt, she open'd her large eyes, And gazed on Juan with a wild surprise.

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CII. Jerse at this instant, while their eyes were fix'a

And all allowances besides of plunder l'pon each other, with dilated glance,

In fair proportion with their comrades; -hen in Juan's look, pain, pleasure, biope, fear, mix'd Juan consented to marchion through thunder,

With joy to save, and dread of some mischance Wbichi chinu'il at every step their ranks of men : l'intolis protégée ; while hers, traustix’d


the rest rashid eagerly- -no wonder, Willa infant terror clared as from a trance,

For were heated by the hope of gain, pure, transparent, pale, yet radiant face,

I thing which happens every where each day-
Like to a lighted alabaster vase; ---

No hero trustethi wholly to half-pay.

Ip came John Jobuson-(I will not say « Jack, » And such is victory, and such is man!

For that were vulgar, cold, and common-place At least nine-tents of what we call so;-God
On great occasions, such as an attack

Jay have ano:her name for half we scan On cities, as latlı been the present case)

As buman beings, or his ways are odd. Ip Jobinson came, with hundreds at his back,

But to our subject, a brave Tartar Khan, Exclining : --« Juan! Juan! Ou, boy! brace

Or « sultan, as the author (to whose nod Your arm, and I'll bet Moscow to a dollar,

In prose I bend my humble verse) doth call That you and I will win Saint George's collar 8

This chieftain-someliow would not yield at all. XCVII.

CV. « The Seraskier is knockilypou the head,

But, flank'd by five brave sons (such is polygamy, But the stone bastion still remains, wherein

That she

warriors by the score,

where none The old pacha sits among some hundreds dead, Are prosecuted for that false crime bigamy) Smoking his pipe quite calmly 'midst the din

He never woull believe the city won Of our aruilery and liis own : 't is said

While courage clung bul to a single twis. — Am ! Our kill'd, already piled up to the chin,

Describing Priam's. Peleus, or Jose's son? Lie round the battery; but still it batters,

Seither, -but a good, plain, old, temperate man, And grapein volleys, like a vineyard, seatters.

Who fought with his five children in the van.

CVI. " Then

with me'»-But Juan answeril, « Look

To the lim was the point. The truly brave, l'pon this child-] saved her-must not leave

When they behold the brave oppress d with odd-, Her life to chancr; but poiut me out some hook

Are touchid with a desire to shield and save;Of safety, where she less may shrink am grieve,

A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods And I am will you.»-- Whereon Johnson 100k

Are they-now furious us the sweeping wave, A glance around -and slingeel- and twitched his

Now moved with pity: even as sometimes nods sleeve

The rugged tree unto the summer wind,
wud black sills neehclotlı – and replied, « You're right: Compassion breathie: along the savage miod.
Poor thing' whats to be done? I'm purzjed quite.»

Sud Juan -- Whatsoever is to be

But he would not be tnhen, and replied Done, I'll not quit her till sloe Sexins secure

Toll the propositions of surrender al present life a good deal more than we--

By mowing Christians down on every side. Quoth Jolmson --- Veither will quite

As obscoate a SwedishChirles at Bender. But at the least you may din gloriously.»

llis five brave boys no long the foe defied : Juan replied --- At least I will endure

Whereon the Russian pathos grew less tender, Whateer is to be lorne--but not resign

is being a virtue, like terrestrial patience, This child, who is parenties, and therefore mine, ipe to wear out on trilling provocations. CI.

CITII. Juluson said-« Junn, we've no time to lose;

And spire of Johnson and of Juan, who The child's a pretty childid very pretty—

Expended all their eastern ploraseology I never saw such eyes about lork! now chuse

In being lim, for God's sakr, just to show Brewerns your fame and fuelings, priile and py:

So much less light as might form an apology Tark! how the roar increase! 10 rruse

For them to saving such a desperate foeWill cerve when there is planner in a city:

the best owav, like doctors of theology Iliould be loth to in ireli without you, bul,

When they dispulle with scepries; and with curses !'y Gou! well be too late for the first cut

Struck at his friends, as babies beit their nunes. CI

CIX. But Jumu was inmovible; unul

Nay, he had woundert, though but slightly, both Joli-on, who really love him in luis way,

Juan and Johnson, whereupon they fellPick it out amongst his followers with some skill The first with sighs, the second with an oathSuchen be thought the least given up to prey :

T'pon luis angry sulanslip, pell-mell, And wearing of the intant came to ill.

dudllaround were grown exceeding wroch That they should all be shot on the next day.

At suchu pertinacious infidel, but if she wore deliverid safe and sound,

Sul pour'd aspon liim and his sons like rain, They dould at these lifly roubles round,

Whichtling repüleel like ! Handy plain,





That drinks and still is dry. At last they perish'd :- The soldiers, who beheld him drop his point,
His second son was levell'd by a shot;

Stopp'd as if once more willing to concede llis third was sabred; and the fourth, most cherish'd Quarter, in case he bade them not « aroint !» Of all the five, on bayonets met his lot;

As he before had done. He did not heed
The fifthi, who, by a Christian mother nourisha, Their pause nor signs : his heart was out of joint,
Had been neglected, ill-used, and what not,

And shook (till now unshaken) like a reed,
Because deformd, yet died all game and bottom, As he look'd down upon bis children gone,
To save a sire whio blush'd that he begot him.

And felt--though done with life-he was alone.

CXVIII. The eldest was a true and tameless Tartar,

But 'I was a transient tremor :-with a spring As great a scorner of the Nazarene

Upon the Russian steel his breast he flung, As ever Mahomet pick d out for a martyr,

As carelessly as hurls the motlı her wing Who only saw the black-eyed girls in green,

Against the light wherein she dies : he clung Who make the beds of those who won't take quarter Closer, that all the deadlier they might wring, On earth, in Paradise; and, when once seen,

Unto the bayonets which bad pierced his young; Those houris, like all other pretty creatures,

And, throwing back a dim look on his sons, Do just whate'er they please, by dint of features. In one wide wound pour'd forth his soul at once. CXII.

CXIX. And what they pleased to do with the young Khan *T is strange enough-the rough, tough soldiers, who In heaven, I know not, nor pretend to guess;

Spared neither sex nor age in their career But doubtless they prefer a fine young mau

Of carnage, whien this old man was pierced through, To tough old heroes, and can do no less;

And lay before them with his children pcar,
And that's the cause, no doubt, wliy, if we scan Touch'd by the beroism of him they slew,
A field of battle's ghastly wilderness,

Were melted for a moment; though no tear
For one rough, weather-beaten, veteran body,

Flow'd from their blood-shot eyes, all red with strife, You 'Il find ten thousand handsome coxcombs bloody. They honour'd such determined scorn of life. СХІІІ.

CXX. Your houris also have a natural pleasure

But the stone bastion still kept up its fire, In lopping off your lately married men

Where the chief Pacha calmly held his post : Before the bridal hours have danced their measure, Some twenty times he made the Russ retire, And the sad second moon grows dim again,

And baftled the assaults of all their host; Or dull Repentance hath had dreary leisure

At length he condescended to inquire To wish him back a bachelor now and then.

If yet the city's rest were won or lost ; And thus your houri (it may be) disputes

And, being told the latter, sent a Bey
Of these brief blossoms the immediate fruits.

To answer Riba's summons to give way.

Thus the young Khan, with houris in his sight, In the mean time, cross-legg'd, with great sang-froid,

Thought not upon de charms of four young brides, Among the scorching ruins he sat smoking
But bravely rush'd on his first heavenly night. Tobacco on a little carpet ;—Troy
Tu short, howe'er our better faith derides,

Saw nothing like the scene around ;-yet, looking These black-eyed virgins make the Moslems fight, With martial stoicism, nought seem'd to annoy

As though there were one ficaven and none besides, – His stern pluilosophy: but gently stroking Whereas, if all be true we hear of heaven

llis beard, he puffd his pipe's ambrosial gales, And hell, there must at least be six or seven.

As if he had three lives as well as tails.

So fully flash'd the phantom on his eyes,

The town was taken— whether be might yield That when the very lance was in his heart,

Dimself or bastion, little matter'd now; Ile shouted « Allah!» and saw Paradise

Bis stubborn valour was no future shield. With all its veil of mystery drawn apart,

Ismail is no more! The crescent's silver bow And bright eternity without disguise

Suok, and the crimson cross glared o'er the field, On bis soul, like a ceaseless sunrise, dart,

But red with no redeeming gore : the glow With prophets, houris, angels, saints, descried

Of burning streets, like moonlight on the water, To one voluptuous blaze, -and then he died :

Was imaged back in blood, the sea of slaughter. CXVI.

CXXIII. But, with a heavenly rapture on his face,

All that the mind would shrink from of excesses; The good old Khan-who long had ceased to see All that the body perpetrates of bad; flouris, or aught except his florid race,

All that we read, liear, dream, of man's distresses; Who grew like ccdars round him gloriously

All that the devil would do if run stark mad; When he beheld his latest hero grace

All that deties the worst which pen expresses; The earth, which he became like a felld tree,

All by which hell is peopled, or as sad Paused for a moment from the fight, and cast

As hell-mere mortals who their power abuse, A glance on that slain son, his first and last.

Was here (as heretofore and since) let loose.


CXXXI. If here and there some transient trait of pity,

But on the whole their continence was great; Was shown, and some more noble heart broke through So that some disappointment there ensued Jis bloody bond, and saved perhaps some pretty

To those who had felt the inconvenient state Child, or an aged helpless man or two

Of a single blessedness, and thought it good What's this in one annihilated city,

(Since it was not their fault, but only fate, Where thousand loves, and ries, and duties grow? To bear these crosses) for cach waning prude Cockneys of London! Muscadins of Paris!

To make a Roman sort of Sabine wedding, Just ponder what a pious pastime war is.

Without the expense and the suspense of bedding. CXIV.

CXXXII. Think how the joys of reading a gazette

Some voices of the buxom middle-aged Are purchased by all agonies and crimes :

Were also heard to wonder in the din Or, if these do not move you, don't forget

(Widows of forty were these birds long caged) Suchi doom may be your owu in after times.

« Wherefore the ravishing did not begin!» Meantime the taxes, Castlereagh, and debt,

But, while the thirst for gore and plunder raced, Are hints as good as serinous, or as rhymes.

There was small leisure for superfluous sio ;
Read your own hearts and Ireland's present story, But whether they escaped or no, lies hid
Then feed her famine fat with Wellesley's glory.

In darkness—I can only hope they did.

But still there is unto a patriot nation,

Suwarrow now was conqueror-a match Which Joves so well its country and its king,

For Timor or for Zinghis in his trade, A subject of sublimest exultation

While mosques and streets, beneath his eyes, like thatch Bear it, ye Muses, on your brightest wing!

Blazed, and the cannon's roar was scarce allaya, Howe'er the mighty locust, Desolation,

With bloody hands he wrote his first dispatch; Strip your greeu tields, and to your harvests cling, And here exactly follows what he said :Gaunt Fainine never shall approach the throne

Glory to God and to the Empresa!» (Powers Though Ireland starve, reat George weighs twenty stone. Eternal! such names mingled !) « Ismail's ours '» 9 CXXVII.

CXXXIV. But let me put an end unto iny theme:

Methinks these are the most tremendous words, There was an end of Ismail-hapless town!

Since « Menė, Menė, Tekel,» avd. Cpharsia, Far flash'd lier burning towers o'er Danube's stream, Which hands or pins have ever traced of swords. And redly ran his blushing waters down.

Heaven help me! I'm but little of a parson : The horrid war-whoop and the shriller scream

What Daniel read was short-hand of the Lord's, Rose still; but fainter were the thunders grown: Severe, sublime; the prophet wrote no farce on Of forty thousand who had mann'd the wall,

The fate of nations ;— but this Russ, so witty, Some hundreds breathed-the rest were silent all! Could rhyme, like Nero, o'er a burning city. CXXVIII.

CXXXV. In one thing ne'ertheless iis fie to praise

He wrote this polar melody, and set it, The Russian ariny upon this occasion,

Duly accompanied by shirieks and

groans, A virtue much in fashion now-a-days,

Which few will sing, I trust, but none forget itAnd therefore worthy of commemoration:

For I will teach, if possible, the stones The topic 's tender, so shall be my phrase

To rise against earth's tyrants. Never let it Perhaps the season's cluill, and their long station Be said, ibat we still truckle unto thrones;In winter's depth, or want of rest and victual,

Put ye-our children's children! think how we Had made them chaste;- they ravish'd very little. Show'd what things were before the world was free' CXXIX.

CXXXVI. Much did they slay, more plunder, and no less

That hour is not for us, but it is for vou; Might here and there occur some violatiou

And as, in the great joy of your millennium, In the other line;- but not to such excess

You hardly will believe such things were true As when the French, that dissipated nation,

As now occur, I thought that I would pen you em, Take towns by storm : no causes can I guess,


very memory perish foo! Except colil weather and commiseration;

Yet, if perchance rememberi, still disdain yon 'em, But all the ladies, save some twenty score,

More than you scorn the savages


yore, Were almost as much virgins as before.

Who painteil their bare limbs, but not with gore. С

CXXXVU. Some odd mistakes too happend in the dark,

ind when you hear historians talk of thrones, Which slowda want of lanthorns, or of taste

And those that sate upon them, let it be Indeel the smoke was such they scarce could mark As we now gaze upon the Mammoth's bones, Their friends from foes, besides such things from And wonder what old world such things could see: hasta

Or hieroglyphics on Egyptian stones, Occur, though rarely, when there is a spark

The pleasant ridelles of futurityOf light to save the venerably chaste :

Guessing at what shall happily be bid But six old damsels, each of seventy years,

As the real purpose of a pyramid. Were all dellowerd by different grenadiers.

CSXXVIU. Reader! I have kept my word,

-at least so far As the first canto promised. You have now Had sketches of love, tempest, travel, war

All very accurate, you must allow,
And epic, if plain truth should prove no bar:

For I have drawn much less with a long bow
Than my fore-runners. Carelessly I sing,
But Phæbus leads me now and then a string,

With which I still can harp, and carp, and fiddle.

What further hath befallen or may befal
The hero of this grand poetic riddle,

I by and by may tell you, if at all:
But now I chuse to break off in the middle,

Worn out with battering Ismail's stubborn wall,
While Juan is sent off with the dispatch,
For which all Petersburgh is on the watch.

This special honour was conferr'd, because

He had behaved with courage and humanity ;Which last men like, when they have time to pause

From their ferocities produced by vanity. His little captive gain' him some applause,

For saving her amidst the wild insanity Of

carnage, and I think he was more glad in her Safety, than his new order of Si Vladimir.

The Moslem orphan went with her protector,

For she was homeless, houseless, helpless: all
Her friends, like the sad family of Hector,

Had perish'd in the field or by the wall: Her very place of birth was but a spectre

Of what it had been; there the Muezzin's call To prayer was heard no more!--and Juan wept, And made a vow to shield her, which he kept.

III. Though Britain owes (and pays you too) so much,

Yet Europe doubtless owes you greatly more:
You have repair'd legitimacy's crutch-

A prop not quite so certain as before:
The Spanish, and the French, as well as Dutch,

Have seen, and felt, how strongly you restore; And Waterloo has made the world your debtor (I wish your bards would sing it rather better.)

IV. You are « the best of cut-throats :»-do not start;

The phrase is Shakspeare's, and not misapplied : War 's a brain-spattering, windpipe-slitting art,

Unless her cause by right be sanctified. If you have acted once a generous part,

she world, not the world's masters, will decide, And I shall be delighted to learn who, Save you and yours, have gain' by Waterloo ?

V. I am no flatterer-you've supp'd full of flattery:

They say you like it too-t is no great wonder: He whose whole life has been assault and battery,

At last may get a little tired of thunder; And, swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he

May like being praised for every lucky blunder: Call d « Saviour of the Nations»--not yet saved, And « Europe's Liberator»---still enslaved.

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I've done. Now go and dine from off the plate

Presented by the Prince of the Brazils, And send the sentinel before your gate,

A slice or two from your luxurious meals :: He fought, but has not fed so well of late.

Some hunger too they say the people feels:
There is no doubt that you deserve your ration-
But pray give back a little to the nation.

I don't mean to reflect--a man so great as

You, my Lord Duke! is far above reflection.
The highi Roman fashion too of Cincinnatus

With modern history has but small connexion :
Though as an Irisliman you love potatoes,

You need not take them under your direction;
And half a million for your Sabine farm
Is rather dear! I'm sure I mean no harm.

Great men have always scorn'd great recompenses;

Epaminondas saved his Thebes, and died,
Not leaving even his funeral expenses:

George Washington had thanks and nought beside, Except the all-cloudless glory (which few men's is)

To frec his country: Pilt too had his pride,
And, as a high-soul'd minister of state, is
Renown'd for ruining Great Britain gratis.

Never had mortal man such opportunity,

Except Napoleon, or abused it more:
You might have freed fall'o Europe from the unity

Of tyrants, and been bless'd from sbore to shore; And now-what is your fame? Shall the muse tune it ye?

Now-that the rabble's first vain shouts are o'er?
Go, hear it in your famish'd country's cries!
Behold the world! and curse your victories !

0i, Wellington! (or «Vilainton»—for fame

Sounds the heroic syllables both ways;
France could not even conquer your great name,

But puond it down to this facetious phrase-
Beating or beaten she will laugh the same) –

You have obtain'd great pensions and much praise;
Glory like yours should any dare gainsay,
Humanity would rise, and thunder « Nay!»!

I don't think that you used K-1--rd quite well

In Marinet's affair- in fact 't was shabby,
And, like some other things, won't do to tell

Upon your tomb in Westminster's old abbey. l'pon the rest 't is pot worth while to dwell,

Such tales being for the tea hours of some tabby; But though your years as man tend fast to zero, In fact your grace is still but a young hero.

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